


Love and Other Trauma

by Not_So_Austen



Category: Bandom, JONAS, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Werewolves, mentions character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_So_Austen/pseuds/Not_So_Austen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Mike/Kevin Bandom AU set in the Teen Wolf universe for the sodamnskippy Valentine's Day Challenge 2013. My prompts were decoration and kiss: navel.<br/>Kevin is a werewolf with emotional baggage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Other Trauma

"For someone who was born a werewolf, you kind of suck at being a werewolf," says Mike, and Kevin would probably be upset by that, would probably take offence to that, if it wasn't true and if he wasn't fighting to stay conscious and vaguely upright with four wolfsbane bullets working their way through his system.

Kevin laughs, sharp and dry, but it ends in a wet cough that brings up blood and little black droplets of poison ooze. The very action of coughing jars him, aggravates his injuries and his vision whites out for a moment. His feet stumble on the gravel and then Mike's arm is around him, steadying him and pushing forward across the parking lot to the veterinary clinic.

They make it to the front door and Mike pauses, readjusting Kevin's weight where he leans heavily against Mike's side. "I don't," Mike starts, and Kevin can hear the worry in his voice and smell the sharp jolt of anxiety and fear.

"I know Bill has a spare key," says Mike, "but that doesn't really help us right now."

Kevin grunts, teeth clenched and bared, and with a burst of focused strength punches the door knob clean through the wooden door, the metal clattering across the floor in the reception area.

"Okay," says Mike, startling for a moment but taking it in stride like he has everything else since they meet a few weeks ago and everything got shot to hell. "That works too." They stumble inside the clinic and even before Mike reaches to the side and switches the light on Kevin can see them. The clinic isn't exactly overflowing with decorative cheer, but there are a couple of ridiculous posters, little puppies and kittens on cardstock hearts with tag lines like 'I ruff you' and 'You're purrrfect' and on the desk sits a plush dalmation toy with a ruffled heart clenched in its felt teeth. And Kevin knows that five years ago he would have loved this, because back then he loved the puns and the completely adorable tackiness of St Valentine's Day without reserve. He loved pretty much everything without reserve, getting swept up in the joy and not thinking about anything deeper than face value. Which is probably why he made such a pitifully easy mark.

"To the operating room," says Kevin when he realises Mike is waiting for direction and they hobble towards the back of the complex. "Call Bill. I really need that bullet or we'll have to..."

"What?" asks Mike, even as he leaves Kevin to lean against the operating table and digs his phone out from the pocket of his jeans. "We'll have to what?"

"Uh. Let's just hope Bill's on his way and it doesn't come to that."

"Great. That's reassuring," says Mike, as he waits for Bill to pick up.

Somehow Kevin's managed, until now, to not realise it's Valentine's Day. To be fair he hasn't gotten out much, spending most of his time over the last few weeks searching for the remaining half of Joe's body and moving between the burnt shell of his family home, the county sheriff's department and the hospital to visit the catatonic scar tissue in the shape of his only remaining living relative.

It's been five years to the day since he last saw her, when she asked him to meet her in their spot in the woods but she never showed. Because instead of meeting Kevin for a romantic Valentine's evening she had been too preoccupied using the information she had gleaned from idiotic love-struck Kevin to arrange the murder of his entire family. So maybe it's fitting, if everything goes south tonight, that it's Anya Sølv's bullets that take him out on the anniversary of his family's death.

"Bill says he found it. He's leaving the Sølv's now so he should be here soon."

"That might not be soon enough," Kevin grits out. Mike has accused him of being overdramatic on occasion, what with the creepy stealth, Kevin's seeming inability to smile in a way that doesn't make it look like it physically hurts him to do so, and the leather jacket he always wears that Mike says doesn't suit him. 'Don't get me wrong,' he'd said, 'I know you could kill me before I could blink, but the brooding bad boy in leather just doesn't fit you. Although the jacket does go well with your status of suspect in a homicide.'

But Kevin can feel the poison creeping towards his heart, coiling and tearing through his veins like barbed wire. His fingers are sharpening into claws where he grips the metal table top and tries to breath through the dizziness and cold burning sensation of the wolfsbane tracking its way through his system. He knows he doesn't have long.

His mind is starting to haze over, and it's hard to breathe. His thoughts keep firing backwards and forwards between memories and the present. Snapshots of Anya introducing herself after moving from Oslo, how perfectly weird she was and how she just got Kevin's own quirks and didn't look at him oddly the way his classmates sometimes did. The anchoring warmth of Mike's hand gripping Kevin's arm over his jacket, the distant hope Kevin had that maybe if things were different he and Mike could have been something more.

"Kevin. Kev." Mike's voice brings his thoughts snapping back into place and Kevin knows what he has to do if he wants to live to see the sunrise.

"Yeah," says Kevin hoarsely. "I'm okay."

He stumbles across to the bench and starts pulling open the cupboard doors and drawers, rummaging until he finds what he needs. He turns to Mike, brandishing the bone saw and says, "I need you to cut off my arm."

"Woah! What? No," says Mike, stepping backwards as Kevin returns to the operating table and sets the bone saw on the clean metal surface.

"If you don't, I'll die," says Kevin. And he realises in that moment that as much as he's thought about it, as much as he sometimes wishes he had gone with the rest of his family, or been killed by the mysterious Alpha instead of Joe, Kevin _doesn't want to die._

"Will it grow back?" Mike asks, and it throws Kevin for a moment.

"What?"

"Your arm. Will it grow back?"

"I'm a werewolf, not a starfish, Mike."

"Well, yeah, but you have super healing. I thought maybe you could heal yourself a new arm."

"It doesn't really work like that," says Kevin. He's shucked the jacket, let it fall carelessly to the floor and he's peeling his t-shirt away from his skin. The material is sticking to him where the Alpha had scratched him in their brief scuffle. Claw marks gouged long and deep into his chest and abdomen and slow to heal.

Kevin's just tied the tourniquet to his arm and Mike's holding the bone saw hesitantly above Kevin's arm, looking sick and horrified, when Bill bursts into the room.

"I've got the-" he's yelling, then stops to stare at Mike and Kevin. "What the actual fuck are you guys doing?"

"You've got the bullet?" asks Kevin, at the same time as Mike drops the bone saw and says, "I have never been this happy to see you."

Kevin cracks the bullet casing against the table until it opens, spilling purple dust in a neat pile in the table top. He fishes into his pants pocket to pull out his lighter and the dust sparks to life, burning blue and settling into deep purple ash.

"I think I'm missing something here," says Bill. "But since I'm pretty sure what I'm missing is the trip to Crazy Town you two went on, I'm going to let this one slide."

"What are you going to do with that?" Mike asks, eyeing the ash on the table.

"I have to push it into the bullet holes," says Kevin. He pinches some of the burnt ash and presses it into the wound, fingers sliding under his skin and into his arm and he crashes to the ground, head swimming in agony.

He blacks out for a minute. His stomach lurches and Kevin turns his head to vomit streams of black goo onto the sterile white tile.

Mike is hovering over him, saying something but Kevin can't focus on the words. There's a buzzing in his ears and the florescent lights are blinding his eyes.

Suddenly he's back in the late winter afternoon, lying on the leaf-covered forest floor with Anya. His hands card through her hair and she smiles at him like honey and sunshine and leans over to capture his mouth with her own. Kevin smiles into the kiss and his eyes sink closed.

Bright red flares behind Kevin's eyelids and he feels his own claws sinking into the flesh of his thigh as he struggles against the pain and the urge to lash out at Mike as he forces the cure into the next bullet wound on Kevin's arm.

The buzzing in his ears blurs into the sound of Anya's laugh, light and bubbly as she carefully undoes the buttons on his shirt. She kisses and nips her way down his chest, her hands running smoothly along his sides and fingernails trailing sharply across his back in a way that makes him arch and want more in a way he doesn't entirely understand.

Anya kisses down to his bellybutton, tongue swiping across his navel and Kevin laughs in surprise. It's the last genuine happy laugh he gives for five years. Anya taps one of her fingers against the button on his jeans and meets his eyes, silently questioning and promising so much more. So much more than Kevin is ready for, so they joke and make plans for the evening, their first Valentine's Day together.

Kevin's eyes snap open to see the black goo coating Mike's fingers and smeared so thoroughly across his own arm that he can't see a clean patch of skin above his wrist. Pain lances through him as his body expels the wolfsbane through their entrance wounds but it's not as bad as before. He can feel it working, the pain slowly ebbing away with each passing moment.

Kevin exhales slow and shaky. His head is pillowed on Mike's thigh and he looks up to see Mike looking at him and Kevin darts his eyes away nervously.

"It worked?" Mike asks softly, like Kevin is a cornered animal who needs to be approached with caution. Which, okay, maybe he kind of is.

"Yeah," says Kevin, slowly, heavily. "I'll be fine in a minute."

"You're still all torn open," says Mike, gesturing towards Kevin's mauled torso.

"That'll take a few days still," says Kevin. "Should be bandages here."

There's a quiet moment where Mike stares past Kevin to some fixed point in the distance but Kevin can't bring himself to move right now.

"Oh, you want _me_ to get the bandages," says Bill, and Kevin realises that must be who Mike was staring at.

A roll of bandages smacks into the side of Mike's head and Bill says, "Use your words next time. It's polite to actually _ask_."

A second item comes flying across the room and Mike manages to catch it this time.

"Antibacterial wipes," says Bill. "So you don't just bandage him up as is and let him die of infection or whatever."

"Thanks," says Mike and he carefully sets to works cleaning and bandaging.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Mike blurts out awkwardly, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

"Um, thanks," says Kevin, very much aware that he's still pretty much using Mike as a pillow.

"Well, as touching as this is, I'll leave you two to simmer in your unresolved sexual tension, I've got things to do," says Bill, making his way to the door. "Just don't make any weird pacts to amputate each others limbs again while I'm gone."

The door swings shut behind Bill and they're quiet for a while, neither one saying anything or moving at all. Then, finally, Kevin pulls himself upright to lean against the wall. Mike gets to his feet as well and circles around to stand a comfortable distance away.

"I _like_ you," says Mike. His words weighted with the importance and his heartbeat perfect and unbroken in the truth of the statement.

"I," Kevin hesitates. "I like you too, Mike. But I - I don't know how to do this. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"Hey," Mike says gently. "I know. We're already in this together, can we just see where this goes?"

"Yeah," says Kevin, after a while, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "I think I'd like that."


End file.
